Football is Not My Thing Seriously, it’s not
by Yunagirlamy
Summary: “I HATE football! It’s a stupid game that is based on teamwork!” These are the thoughts of none other than little Trunks Brief. Teamwork? Don’t say that word around him. Trunks hates teamwork… and football. In that order.


**Author's Notes: Just a humorous one-shot featuring our favourite little prince: Trunks Brief. This is the first time that I have written something where he is a kid. But hopefully, I shall get him in character. Shouldn't be too hard. **

**Summary: "I HATE football! It's a stupid game that is based on teamwork!" These are the thoughts of none other than little Trunks Brief. Teamwork? Don't say that word around him. Trunks hates teamwork… and football. In that order.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Seriously. NO original characters are going to be in this. Okay, some kids and the P.E teacher are original characters but not serious ones.**

**-- is a scene change or a different point of view.**

**Enjoy!**

"_**Football is Not My Thing. Seriously, it's not."**_

**--**

"Settle down everyone! Right, since it is pissing—" Some kids giggled at the use of the swear word as they knew their teacher shouldn't have used it, "it down, we are going to go inside the gym today for our P.E lesson. I want you all to go line up outside the gym after I have finished speaking. Any questions?" The teacher sighed as he saw no hands shoot up. As he was about to tell everyone to go, one hand was put up.

That hand belonging to a certain lavender-haired prince.

"Yes Trunks?"

"What are we playing?"

The teacher smiled. "Oh, I'm glad you asked that! We are playing football." Half the class cheered, whilst the other half groaned and slumped their shoulders. Trunks belonged to neither of these groups. Instead, his face paled like he seen a ghost. The frown on his face turned into a scowl and he crossed his arms.

"Football?! I'm not playing football. Besides, I'm a prince. I don't have to do _any_thing," he whispered to himself. Oh yes, the little prince definitely took after his father. _'I'm not doing it. And he can't make me. Even if he keeps me in at break or behind after school. I. Don't. Care.'_

"Now, please go and line up outside the gym and do NOT go in until I tell you. Understand?"

The entire class, including Trunks, chorused, "Yes Sir" and got up out of their seats. As they exited the classroom and walked down to the gym (which was only down the corridor), groups of girls chatted amongst themselves and the boys boasted about how great they were at football and how they were going to kick other's bums.

Trunks, however?

Still scowling and arms crossed angrily across his chest. As you could probably guess—Trunks HATES football. He thinks of it as nothing then a stupid game where stupid people kick around a stupid ball. His biggest hate about football was all the TEAMWORK. Trunks _detested_ teamwork. He much rather preferred to be doing something on his own. Unless it was with his father or Goten. Though he got annoyed at Goten sometimes.

"Come on Trunks; cheer up," a girl said behind him, giggling slightly. Trunks rolled his eyes. That girl wouldn't leave him alone and he couldn't think why. "It's just football. It's not like it's gonna hurt ya or anything." Trunks raised an eyebrow at the girl's stupidity.

"There's a number of ways you can get hurt in football. Falling over the ball, the ball hitting you in the face, the ball hitting you on the knee…" Trunks paused and thought for moment. "In fact, the ball hitting you anywhere on your body."

The girl giggled once more and shook her head. "Oh Trunks, you're just being silly."

'_And you're just being an idiot.'_

"Whatever", Trunks sighed and uncrossed his arms. Soon, he heard the sound of his teacher's footsteps over the noise of his fellow classmates. Because Trunks was a half a Saiyan, his hearing was quite excellent.

"Right class; please make your way inside the gym." As the kids started to enter, they become even louder in chatting amongst themselves. "_Please_ be _quiet_! There are LESSONS going on!" The children became a little bit quieter but their noise still echoed around the corridors. Trunks rolled his eyes and as soon as he entered the gym, he found a space and sat down—because that's what they always had to do when they went into the gym.

Trunks gazed around the gym and then his eye caught the large climbing apparatus. That was the only thing that Trunks loved in the entire gym. He then turned round and looked at the stage. Still looking the same as ever. If he wanted, because the staff room was right behind the stage, Trunks could be sneaky and sneak through to the staff room through a door backstage. But he wasn't going to do that. He'd get in a load of trouble because there was always someone in the staff room. Trunks wasn't sure why, but there was.

Trunks turned his head back round when his teacher started to talk again. Sometimes Trunks wished he could blast him to shut up him. _'Hmm… what if I made that wish on the Dragon Balls? Yeah, not a bad idea! Where do you get it from, Trunks? Oh wait; no one. You were born a genius.'_

"Sit down and shut up! Right, there are…" the teacher paused as he counted how many people there were, "… thirty of you, two teams of fifteen. These are the rules, as I'm sure most of you know: the football stays on the ground. It does never get picked up, because we might break something. No kicking the ball at people's faces or anywhere else that hurts. Don't kick the football really hard, as…"

'_Blah, blah, blah. I'm positive that he loves the sound of his own voice.' _Trunks rested his elbow on his knee and his hand on his cheek as he stopped listening. He didn't care about the rules. No one told HIM, a Saiyan prince, how to play a game, even if it was one that he didn't like.

"Right, does everyone understand?" Children nodded their heads. "Get into teams then."

Trunks had barely time to stand up before someone grabbed his arm and dragged him over to a team of girls.

"You can be with _us_, Trunks!" the girl from before said, giggling. Trunks stared at the ceiling in despair and moaned quietly. "Don't worry, we won't play _too_ rough!" The girl giggled once more, letting go of Trunks' arm. Trunks gazed over at the team of boys and saw that they were laughing at him. Trunks sighed and slumped his shoulders. He would just blast them all later when no one was looking.

The teacher scratched his head as he overlooked the two teams, and then he shrugged. "Alright, I was hoping for mixed teams to make it fairer, but this is just for fun. Right, get into positions! Also, five from each team sit out!"

Trunks smiled and saw this as his lucky escape. He walked to sit down, but the teacher stopped him.

"Not you, Trunks. You're the only boy, so the girls will need you to make it fairer. I know how rough you boys can be in football."

Trunks sighed and glared at the teacher, and then got back into his previous position. On his list of people to blast, his teacher was at the top, with that stupid annoying girl underneath him. All the other boys were third. They were all annoying at the same level. Plus that way, Trunks had a smaller list.

The position he was playing was in defence, which meant he had to stop anybody trying to kick the ball in his team's goal. Trunks couldn't really care less; he didn't care who won or who lost. It was a stupid game. When Trunks ruled the world (before he can do that, he wants to gather up an army. So far, he only has Goten signed up but he'll get plenty more in the future. Join up or be blasted, that's his slogan), he would ban this silly game and blast anyone who dared to play it. Then he would blast the people on his list of 'People to Blast'.

The teacher placed the ball in-between the two children that stood in the middle of the hall. The nasty looks they were giving each other translated as _"I'm gonna kick your backside"_. The teacher backed away and crossed his arms. Since he didn't have a whistle, he would use his mouth.

Which was actually _louder_ than a whistle.

"Are you ready? GO!"

Both the girl and boy kicked the ball, but the boy got the advantage because he was stronger and started to run towards the goal, his team members backing him up.

Trunks stood looking at his nails—he simply was not interested. Why be interested in a game he hates? He made no attempt to move when the ball was coming his way. Various members of his team, screamed at him, making Trunks wince a bit from his sensitive hearing. Damn, girls were _loud_.

"Trunks, kick the ball! KICK IT!"

"Oi! Kick the ball before he scores!"

"Trunks, _please_ pay attention!"

Trunks didn't listen and a smirk came on his face as the other team scored a goal.

"YES! One-nil! Get in there!" the boy who scored cried joyfully. Multiple groans echoed in the gym, all of them from the girls. One girl marched up to Trunks and crossed her arms.

"Oi, you stupid git! Pay more attention!"

Trunks rolled his blue eyes and sighed, He never kicked the ball but it seemed like no one was learning. Pitiful Earthlings.

"My nails were more interesting to me than kicking the ball."

The girl moaned in frustration and walked back to her previous position.

"Trunks?"

Trunks turned his head at the sound of his teacher's voice.

"Can I just have a little word with you please?"

--

Trunks ran through the city, his hands holding onto the straps of his bag. That stupid teacher kept him behind after school. Primary school teachers didn't normally do it—but this one did. The worse part is that the teacher rang up Trunks' mother to tell her that Trunks would be coming home an hour late.

Oh dear.

His mother was not going to be happy.

Oh crap.

His father… did that even bear _thinking_ about?

Trunks swore under his breath as he realised that today after school, he was meant to have a sparring session with his father. His father had warned him this morning _"Don't be late brat, or you'll be in deep trouble."_

'_I guess I'm in deep trouble then.'_

As Trunks exited the city, he looked around to make sure no one was looking and then he took off into the sky, flying as fast as he could. He didn't really _want_ to fly fast, because he didn't want to face the wrath of his father. But if he didn't fly fast, he'd be in even more trouble.

It was a lose-lose situation.

--

Trunks landed in front of Capsule Corporation, not wanting to enter through the front door. He knew he had no choice but to, though. With a deep breath, Trunks started to walk towards his house, dreading facing his parents. He placed his small hand on the handle of the door and waited a few seconds before pushing down. He peeked in. The hallway was empty.

Trunks sighed in relief, came in, turned round and shut the front door.

"Why were you held back after school, young man?!"

Trunks jumped at the sound of his mother's voice and turned round to face her. She had her arms crossed and a _very_ angry expression. Only one thought went through Trunks' mind. _'How did she get there so quickly?'_

"… No reason."

"Oh _really_? Your teacher tells me you were refusing to do something!" His mother narrowed her eyes, which made her more scary looking. She knelt down to Trunks' height to intimidate him more. "Care to tell me exactly what that was?" The intimidating was working.

"Err… err…" Trunks looked from side to side, trying to find an escape route. However, his mother was not going to let him get away so easily.

"Don't you dare try and run or I'll call your father. Also, if you don't tell me."

Trunks' eyes widened and he shook his head. That was _definitely_ not a good thing! If facing his mother was scary, then facing his father was going to be literally hell itself.

"No don't call Dad! Fine, I'll tell you." Trunks sighed. "We were playing football and I was in defence, and when the ball was coming towards me, I didn't kick it." There was a silence for a moment, before Bulma burst out laughing. Trunks' knitted his eyebrows in confusion and tilted his head slightly to the side, his lavender hair moving as he did. What was so funny? Adults were so weird sometimes.

"Your teacher kept you in for _that_?!" Bulma laughed some more and then stood up. "Oh Trunks, don't worry about it. You're not in trouble anymore." Trunks sighed in relief but then he remembered about his sparring session and his father.

"Yeah, maybe not with you, Mum, but what about Dad?"

Bulma put a thoughtful hand on her chin. "Hmm… you're right, that is a problem. He told me today that you were going to spar with him today after school and that you weren't to be late or else you'd be in deep trouble. I'll go and talk to your father, because he was pretty mad earlier about you being late." Bulma started to walk away but then Trunks grabbed onto her arm.

"No wait, Mum. I'll go and explain to him."

"Are you sure, Trunks?"

"Yes, I'm certain," Trunks answered. Bulma smiled and ruffled Trunks' hair.

"That's my little prince!" Then she walked away smiling.

"…I'm not little!"

--

Trunks' stomach started to ache as he got closer to the gravity room. He almost wished he hadn't said that _he'd_ be the one to talk to his father.

For someone intelligent, he sure could be daft as a brush.

The closer he got to the door—the further away he wanted to be. _'I am such a thicko sometimes. Me, explaining to Dad why I was late? I must have been out of my mind when I said that. Well, I can't get out of it now.'_

He reached the door and paled. He could feel that his father's energy was very intense, which was not good news for Trunks because it meant his dad was in a very, _very_ bad mood. _'The headlines in the newspaper soon: "Eight-year-old murdered by his furious father."'_

"Well, are you coming in or not, brat?"

Trunks face palmed as remembered that his dad could read ki levels too. _'Yep, daft as a brush.'_

"Are you going to stand there all day or do I have to drag you in and the mood I'm in at the moment, it'd be by your _hair_!"

Trunks immediately put protective hands over his (absolutely perfect) hair and rushed into the gravity room. Vegeta was standing in the middle of the room; arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Trunks tried to make polite conversation as not to agitate his father.

"… Hi—"

"You were late today, Trunks." Vegeta took a step closer. "An _hour_ late!"

'_Damn it…'_

"It wasn't my fault, honestly!" No matter how hard he tried, Trunks could never sound calm in front of his dad when he was in trouble. And he thought his _mum_ was intimidating.

"Oh really? Then whose fault _was_ it, _Trunks_?"

"It was the teacher! He was the one who kept me behind…"

"And _why_ did he keep you behind?" Vegeta took some more steps until he was standing right in front of his son and looking down at him. Bulma's way of intimidating was getting to Trunks' eye level and Vegeta's way of intimidating was looking upon Trunks. Vegeta's way worked better on Trunks, plus; Trunks was more scared of his father. Who wouldn't be?

"Because… he hates me?" Trunks lied. In actual truth, Trunks was one of his teacher's favourite pupils.

"You're lying." Vegeta swiftly smacked Trunks around the head.

"Ow, that hurt! And no I'm not!" Another smack. "Ow!"

"I can tell you're lying, brat. Whenever you lie, you look down to the floor."

"Damn!" Trunks muttered underneath his breath. He was hoping nobody noticed that, but apparently, his dad had a sharp eye for detail.

"Tell me the truth, or you'll _really_ feel pain."

Trunks sighed and looked up. His father still had a scowl on his face. Trunks looked down again. _'Somehow I don't think Dad will find the reason why as funny as Mum did…'_

"Fine. I was kept behind because we were playing football and I refused to kick the ball." Trunks waited for a response… but strangely enough, one didn't come. This was very unusual indeed. Normally his father would have made some smart remark. But… he… _didn't_.

"… What's football?"

'_Wait… whut?'_

"You don't know what it is?" Trunks asked with uncertainty just in case he didn't hear correctly. Did his father _really_ say that he didn't know what football was? He must be the only person on the whole planet not to know what football was. _'I wonder if they even had football on… what was it again? … Planet Vegeta, that was it. Nah, they probably didn't.'_

"That's why I _asked_." Trunks could hear that Vegeta was getting annoyed now, so he thought it was best that he make his way out of here.

"Erm… bye!" Trunks swiftly turned round to leave, but just as fast as he had turned around, Vegeta grabbed the back of his shirt, keeping him in place. Trunks was thinking he probably shouldn't have done that, because that probably made his dad more annoyed.

"Answer my question, boy."

"It's a stupid game where people kick around a stupid ball, and they have to try and get them into goals so they can score a point," Trunks obediently answered. He then found himself being lifted into the air by the scruff of his shirt, and at eye level with his father. Vegeta didn't look very amused at all.

"I take it you don't like this game."

"I _hate_ it, actually. It's a stupid game based on teamwork."

"Hmm… I can see why you hate it. Relying on other people… it's, as you put it, stupid." Vegeta looked away from Trunks and then dropped him on the floor.

"Oww…" Trunks moaned. "Erm… am I free to go?" Trunks asked carefully. And to his surprise, Vegeta nodded.

"We'll have a sparring session tomorrow. You'll have no excuse for being late tomorrow, because as far as I know, you don't go to school on a Saturday."

Trunks smiled and then rushed out of the gravity room. Bulma was standing outside, her arms crossed, and a smirk on her face.

'_Seriously, how does she _DO_ that? I should have been able to have picked up her energy. I'll find her out one of these days.'_

"… Did you hear everything?"

"'_It's a stupid game based on teamwork'_," Bulma mimicked in a low voice, "I was trying not to laugh." Trunks frowned, making Bulma laugh. "You look exactly like your father like that. If you had the same hair and eyes, you'd be twins!"

Trunks rolled his eyes and started to walk away.

"See you later!" Bulma paused for a second and then shouted, "My little prince!"

Trunks froze and turned to round to glare at his mother, but she had already started walking away.

"I'm _NOT_ little!"

**--**

**Well, there you go! Trunks hates teamwork and football, but most of all; he hates being called little. This story was kind of based off my own hate of football. I see it as nothing more than a worthless game where people kick around a football. And "professional" football players get paid loads and loads of pounds too! It's stupid and it irritates me a lot. Football is so boring. Whenever they cover the sports on ITV News, I always want to turn the sound off. Anyway. That's enough rambling. I hope I kept everyone in character. I think I kept Vegeta in character, though. Please review! **

**Yunagirlamy, 7.6.09.**


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